Stan Petrovich

The Mystery - Poem by Stan Petrovich

Autoplay next video

Where is he come from, Why is he doomed? The Genome is only the punch-cardComputer of a generationor more ago, Filling up buildings, no colored displays, Just the buzz of magnertic tapes-You need a quantum computer to solveThe real equaations, everything in between.

He beckons from the eleven dimensions.He repeats and does not repeat.The folders of his quest Are infinitely stackedAnd infinitely variable.Time stretches-I finally get it perhaps-

His tombstones need not bear resemplanceTo one another.(Although they may) .For the key to the unierse is probability, Not mere possibility.I am more than an example of a collectionOf particles inhabiting a certain space-And it requires no anima to grand meThat place.